


This World Was Not Made For You

by sister_dear



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Ensemble Cast, Found Family, Four (Linked Universe)-centric, Gen, Language, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Protective Legend (Linked Universe), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_dear/pseuds/sister_dear
Summary: Thedas should be easy for the Heroes of Hyrule. No infected monsters, no Ganon, no being hunted by the forces of evil. Just a little hole in the sky, and demons, and what exactly is going on with the magic here?A Linked Universe/Dragon Age crossover.
Comments: 42
Kudos: 131





	1. The Smith

**Author's Note:**

> This story is completely written and will be updated daily.
> 
> Credit to [Sinnatious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinnatious/pseuds/Sinnatious) for a plot device used in this first chapter. Specifics are in the end notes where they’ll no longer be a spoiler.

It’s possible they’re in over their heads. 

It is their nature to run towards a fight, not away. But in this case, perhaps, it would have been better to stop and assess a little first. 

_“Anyone recognize where we are?”_

_“No.”_

_“Not my Hyrule.”_

_“Did that portal seem strange to you two?”_

_“Where are the others?”_

_“I hear fighting!”_

Wild took off at that, Twilight hot on his heels. Four wasn’t about to be left behind. 

Two groups fighting each other, civilians caught in the middle. No monsters, but their role is clear enough; protect the helpless. 

Between the three of them, the first two men in heavy plate are easy to deal with. The ones they face next are all armed with some kind of strange magic rod, only one of them seeming to be locked to a single element. It puts Four and his companions immediately on the defensive, cautiously feeling out the limits of the strange magic. 

Wild is faring best, his archery skills coming out to play. An arrow in the eye downs the first of their opponents. Twilight stands in front of him, defending them both with shield in one hand and hookshot in the other. He aims to disarm one of their opponents, misses with a curse when the woman ducks out of the way. Four slips around the side, using the other two as a distraction. 

No luck; he’s been noticed. He flings himself low, dodging out of the way of a freezing bolt of pale blue light. He comes to his feet and throws himself into a zig-zagging sprint. Another of Wild’s arrows finds its mark in the shoulder of the man directly in front of Four, and it’s all the opening he needs. He knocks the long magic rod - Staff? Spear? Later! - aside. The spell gathering at its tip goes wide. A grunt of pain behind Four: Wild or Twilight taking an injury, he can’t tell who and knows better than to look. The first swipe of his sword disembowels his opponent. A quick spin to gain momentum as the man doubles over, bringing his neck in range.

The head hits the ground at Four’s feet, but he doesn’t stop. Can’t stop, because the woman behind the toppling corpse lets off a spell. Four rolls again to dodge it, can see Twilight and Wild in his peripheral vision when he comes to his feet. It looks like Twilight stumbled backwards into Wild, blood all over his front, the totem around his neck swinging free of his clothes as Wild struggles not to overbalance under his weight. 

Two opponents left, the woman fending off Four’s hasty swipe as the man behind her shoots yet another spell at Four’s distracted companions. He shouts a warning, can’t get around the woman to do anything else. Wild jerks a hand up as if to fend the spell off with his bow. The magic hits. There is an almighty crack, something shattering. Twin screams. A puff of smoke that looks strangely like the black magic of Twilight’s transformations into Wolfie. 

“Guys!”

Four pays for his distraction. 

Fire engulfs his sword arm. Four screams, throws himself into another roll to put it out, to get away. He lands on it and fights not to throw up, keeps hold of his weapon through sheer willpower. He reaches the end of his roll and tries to come back up to his feet but the world spins. He goes back down hard. The woman snarls, stabs forward with the bladed butt of her weapon. 

Wolfie leaps straight over his head from behind. His teeth are in the woman’s throat before they both hit the ground. 

The last man, where is he, where-?

The man isn’t looking at Four or Wolfie or the dying woman. His eyes are glued to the sky. “Dragon,” he whispers. Four risks a glance. 

Scales a cheerful blue. Spear-like horns and a ruff of golden fur. Long, serpentine body. Scarring all along the left side, so extensive it’s clearly visible even from the ground.

Wild. 

Four surges to his feet, swings his sword blindly as his vision goes grey around the edges. The last man shouts, falls. Four stabs downward. A gurgle. Silence. 

Four raises his head slowly. Yes, that looks just like the pictures Wild has shown them of the dragons in his Hyrule. Smaller than those, perhaps ten feet long, and not glowing, but the same species. 

If a dragon could be said to be wriggling with glee, this one is doing it. He’s flying in looping circles as if to test the limits of his own agility, coiling and diving in an impressive display of aerial acrobatics. 

He’s also a solid thirty feet in the air, no doubt attracting the attention of every person in the entire valley. 

A growl from behind Four. Then a bark, sharp and commanding. Wild-the-dragon jolts. Four makes frantic “come here” gestures with his good arm. The dragon seems to sag, but he does start heading towards the ground. Four looks away to check in with his other companion. 

Wolfie is covered in blood. Four isn’t sure how much of it’s his. “How badly are you hurt?” he demands. Wolfie pins his ears, giving a careful nudge to the hilt of the sword still clutched in Four’s burnt hand. 

Four shakes his head. “I’m fine. Potion will fix me right up. Can you change back?”

A soft growl. That’s a no then.

Wild had most of their extra supplies, which Four assumes are now inaccessible. That leaves them splitting the bare basics Four has in his own pack three ways. Not ideal.

“We need to find the others. Maybe one of them has something that can help you change back. Didn’t you say it was the Master Sword that did it the first time this happened?”

Wolfie huffs his agreement. 

Something brushes Four’s back. He startles badly, but it’s only Wild. He doesn’t land, just circles rapidly around the two of them at eye level, as if to say “look what I can do!” It’s exactly the same body language that usually accompanies the kind of antics that leave Legend grumbling and Time looking two seconds away from a migraine. Wolfie growls his displeasure, snapping his teeth. WIld finally seems to really look at them. To say he goes still is inaccurate. His body still moves in sinuous waves, but he does stop circling. Whiskers brush delicately across Four’s shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” Four repeats. “We need to find the others so they can help us figure out how to change the two of you back.”

“The boy controls a dragon! Apostate!”

Not again. Four curses, experiences a flash of internal conflict, berating himself for not taking a potion _before_ stopping to check on his companions. Grimly, he switches his sword to his off hand. 

A draconic snarl. Wild dives towards the newest group of hostiles. More plate mail, and this group is large. Wolfie plants his feet. Four can see the way he sways. 

“By the Maker, it is a dragon,” someone behind him breathes. Four whips around, heart in his throat. They can’t afford to fight on two fronts right now, they just can’t. 

An arrow flies past him, well wide, into the battle Wild is currently fighting single-handed. Two women run after it. One leads with a sword and shield. The other draws a pair of daggers and seems to vanish into thin air. 

“Stay back, young hunter.” A man pauses beside him, keeping a respectful distance. He’s bald, holding a magical rod of the same style as those now scattered at their feet. A second man follows in his wake, Four’s own height and a fancy crossbow in his hands, the apparent source of that last arrow. 

Both their eyes are trained upwards, and Four blurts “Don’t hurt Wild!” before he can think twice. “The dragon!” He clarifies, “Don’t hit the dragon!”

“Kid,” the shorter man calls, sending another volley of arrows into the fight and grunting in satisfaction when they find their marks, “It might be after the bad guys right now, but the minute it’s down to just us-”

“He won’t! Just don’t hit him!”

Four adjusts his grip on his sword, makes sure he’s left Wolfie room to move. He doesn’t want to attack the first friendly people they’ve come across here, but if they go after Wild he won’t hesitate. 

The bald man studies him, solemn eyes going from the burned arm to his steady grip on the Four Sword and past to Wolfie, still stubbornly on his feet and guarding against anyone who might get close while Four is distracted. His chin dips in a regal sort of nod. “Very well.” He raises his voice, calling across the noise of battle, “Inquisition! The dragon is no foe!” 

The woman with the sword raises it in acknowledgement before driving her weapon into a gap in her opponents’ armor. Wild touches ground for the first time, but only to springboard off of it, short front legs launching him upwards into a full body blow that knocks his heavily armored opponent to the ground. The woman with the daggers appears long enough to finish the man off and vanishes again. 

Wild and the two women seem to have the battle well in hand, especially with magic and arrows now supporting them, so Four lingers where he is with Wolfie until a man breaks away from the pack, aiming to take out their ranged support. Four lunges to meet him, Wolfie a dark blur at his side, and allows instinct to take over. 

Once the most recent battle is done, Four finally, belatedly, draws two potions from his travel pack. He chugs one and turns to Wolfie, holding a cupped hand in front of the blood-coated muzzle. Wolfie meets his eyes and dips his head. His tongue is rough against Four’s palm as Four slowly empties the second bottle into his hand. It’s uncomfortable for them both. He doesn’t have a better solution, so he tries not to make a production of it or to be too aware of the eyes drilling holes into his back. Wolfie gives a full body shake once he’s done, movements fluid once again. Four wrinkles his nose at the blood-coated fur. They need to find a river or something for Wolfie to rinse off in. 

Wild loops close, as if to check in. Small splashes of blood litter his hide. Minor scrapes, comparatively. He’s fine. True to form, his attention is snagged by something else and he’s off again. Four’s mouth tips into a fond smile. 

“You keep noble companions, young hunter.”

“I’m a blacksmith, not a hunter,” Four corrects, tired of the mistaken label. He has enough names already, he doesn’t need more.

Immediate concerns finally taken care of, he eyes the new arrivals. Two Hylians, the bald man and the woman with the daggers. He isn’t sure about the other two. The arbalist is a cheerful man no taller than Four himself. The last is a stern woman who looks like she could give any Gerudo a run for their money. The tilt of her head follows Wild’s erratic path through the air, her hand tense on the hilt of her sword. 

“Ah. Well met, Master Smith. I am Solas.” The man’s gaze is piercing. It puts Four on edge.

“Thank you for your assistance,” the Hylian woman adds. “I’m Hunter Lavellan, of the Inquisition. Would you allow us to return you to the Crossroads? There’s a refugee camp set up there.”

Four shakes his head. “Thank you, but I need to find the rest of my companions.” All four eyes drift to either Wolfie or over his shoulder to Wild, eyebrows raised in various expressions of polite disbelief. “Uh. The not-animal ones,” he clarifies, faltering.

“Your animal companions are impressive.” Lavellan looks like she means it. He can see the curiosity plain on her face, but she doesn’t ask. “But right now it really is best to be in the company of other people. Are they close?”

Are they? He slants a glance at Wolfie, who looks back with ears drooping. Either the rest of them are out of scent range or the battle is overpowering any traces he might follow. 

“I think we’ll have a better idea once we’re away from all this.” 

“In that case, why don’t you stick with us for now.” The other woman makes a noise. Lavellan blithely talks over it. ”It’s getting late. We have a camp up on the hill. Stay with us for the night and you can try to pick up the trail in the morning.”

Four is already shaking his head before she’s finished speaking. He’s not particularly in the mood to be “looked after” under Solas' unnerving watchfulness and with the second woman ready to draw her sword on Wild at the first wrong twitch. He can walk around looking for a trail to pick up just as well without unneeded babysitters.

A canine nose shoves into his ribs. Wolfie gives him a direct look, an ear tilted towards the strangers. Four stares back. He can’t be serious. 

Wolfie’s ears pin to his skull.

It really is very intimidating to be stared down by a wolf as tall as you are. 

It _is_ safer in a larger group. And having the help of someone who actually knows the terrain would be useful.

Ugh. Fine, fine. 

“Thank you,” he says politely. “We’ll take you up on that.” For now.


	2. The Arbalist

Varric places himself near the kid as they start the hike up to camp. The new guy is short for an elf, much easier to keep pace with in all this Maker-forsaken nature than any of his taller travelling companions. The frankly intimidating wolf on the kid’s other side flicks a disinterested ear his way. He’s as tall as the kid, all healthy bulk, and the blood drying in his fur isn’t making him seem any less a dangerous predator. 

The kid raises an expectant eyebrow. Varric obliges, always happy to strike up a conversation. 

“Soooo, now that we have the chance, let’s finish those introductions.”

“All right,” the kid says, agreeable enough. 

Varric waves a hand and dips his head in a casual bow. “Varric Tethras, at your service. The angry one up front is Cassandra. You’ve been introduced to Lavellan and Solas. Do we get something to call you other than Smithy?”

The kid snorts. “Smithy works fine, but I’m Four. This is Wolfie, and that” - he gestures upward to indicate the Maker-damned dragon above their heads - “is Wild.” 

Something like chagrin flits across his face the moment that last name slips out, there and gone. His shoulders hunch, body language closing off. Time to divert his attention from the apparent slip. Varric can figure out what the mistake in that sentence actually was later. 

“Wolfie the wolf and Wild the dragon. Those I get. But Four the blacksmith? I smell a story.”

“It’s the name of my sword,” Four states shortly. 

“It’s a nice sword. This here is Bianca.” He gives his beloved crossbow an affectionate pat. 

Shouting starts up in the trees ahead of them. Bianca is in his hands before he quite realizes why. This area has been quiet. There are Inquisition soldiers all around the camp, keeping the ongoing hostilities in the valley at bay. Did a bear wander too close?

“Wild!” Four yells. 

The dragon is juking and weaving in the air, trying to avoid the slew of arrows all coming from the direction of camp.

“Shit,” Varric curses. Lavellan and Cassandra break into a run up the steep hillside, Lavellan hollering for the soldiers to hold their fire. The missed shots sail overhead and drop into the trees instead of onto their party. Small mercies. 

A barrier springs into being around the dragon. Varric’s heart stops. Does that thing actually have magic on top of everything else?

“What is that?” There’s a note of panic in Four’s voice. "What is that around him?" The wolf snarls. The back of Varric’s neck prickles in response. That’s a no on the dragon having magic then. Odd that the kid doesn’t recognize a basic barrier, though. They’re one of the more common magical skills; surely even someone living outside the Dalish or the Circles would have at least heard of them?

“Peace, Master Smith.” Solas comes up behind them, his staff in hand. “It is merely a barrier, to keep the arrows from harming him.”

“Oh.” Four’s hand falls away from his sword. A slight pause. “Right, I should have-- thank you.”

Ahead of them, the arrows and the shouting die off. The dragon plummets out of the sky, spinning around them in tight, distressed circles. Varric clutches at his heart to hide the fact that he almost fired on Wild himself. He’s getting too old for these kinds of shocks. 

“Wild. Wild!” The kid shouts, his waving hands failing to make any kind of contact. The wolf barks, once, short and sharp. The dragon stops dead, body whiplashing around and tail crashing into trees as his head zeros in on the wolf. Solas’ barrier flickers once and dissolves away into nothing. 

“I told you to stay close,” the kid scolds. He touches a careful hand to the dragon’s snout, ignoring the horns hovering inches from his temple. The wolf yips as if in agreement. 

Lavellan reappears at the top of the hill, jogging towards them. “We’re all clear at the camp,” she calls, not even remotely winded from her sprint up the steep incline moments before. The woman’s stamina is unfair. “That won’t happen again. Is he alright?” 

“He’s fine,” the kid states. “Just startled, I think.” He’s watching them all carefully. Acting protective. Of a dragon. 

Lavellan nods, face gentle. “Come on, then,” she says. “It’s just up here.”

There are quite a few very watchful faces waiting for them. Varric can see the hands tightening on hilts and fingers twitching towards bowstrings when their little group arrives, although no one actually draws anything after the talking-to they’ve no doubt just received. The kid and his companions all notice it too. The kid goes tense all over again, any progress Varric may have made in getting him to relax undone. The wolf bristles, and the dragon coils up like he’s trying to hide behind the kid or ready to make a run for the trees. 

Lavellan brushes the kid’s shoulder. “Let’s let your wolf rinse off in the lake,” she suggests. Four follows her without protest, eyes darting every which way, looking hunted. The animals slink after them both.

This won’t do. Their guest is going to try sneaking off in the middle of the night at this rate. 

Should've known he could count on Lavellan to make the kid feel comfortable. She pulls off her boots without hesitation and wades into the water, starting up the stream of friendly chatter that is already making her well-liked among the Inquisition troops. The kid turns to track every bit of movement around him, but he answers her in short, terse bursts. Varric sits himself down in a spot conveniently just within earshot, Bianca and a cleaning rag settled in his lap. 

The dragon is the first to take an interest in the water, soon losing that defensive coil in favor of playful splashing. The wolf is having none of it. His head is turned back towards the camp, hackles raised. 

The dragon gives a particularly enthusiastic twist through the water that sends a small wave onto the shore. Lavellan, the kid and the wolf are all soaked to the knee. Lavellan laughs as the kid groans a complaint about wet boots. The wolf whips around with a snarl to face the dragon, who is crouched with his snout just above the waterline. 

“No,” the kid yelps, backpedaling. “Wild, don’t-!” Too late. The dragon’s tail sweeps through the lake, sending a much bigger wave crashing onto the shore. The kid wipes water out of his eyes, sputtering, and Lavellan continues to laugh as she brushes beading droplets off the waxed leather of her coat. The wolf lunges into the water. 

“So,” Varric mutters to Solas, watching as the play-fight taking place in the lake does the double-duty of cleaning the animals up and relaxing soldiers around the camp, “This kid ringing about a hundred different alarm bells for you?”

“Indeed.” Solas leans on his staff, eyes narrowed. 

“That dragon is not right,” Cassandra adds, coming up on Varric’s other side.

“Of course you would focus on the dragon,” Varric chuckles. “I’ve never seen a tunic in that style, and believe me, I’ve been around.” The cut itself isn’t so unusual, but the pattern is, four distinct squares of color arranged like a quartered coat of arms. And Varric has never seen anyone attach a hood that large to anything other than a highly pretentious dress robe. “Don’t most elves have a thing about wolves?” This he directs at Solas.

“The Dalish do, yes. Our young friend is no Dalish.” 

“He does not act like someone raised in an alienage,” Cassandra observes. “Perhaps one of the circles?”

“Perhaps.” Solas doesn’t sound like he believes it. 

“An apostate might be capable of summoning animals such as his.”

That doesn’t ring right either. “He was fighting with a sword back there. I didn’t see a hint of magic."

"My barrier on the dragon surprised him,” Solas offers. "No. He is no mage."

Cassandra shakes her head. “Perhaps. For now it is best that we keep him where we can see him.”

Varric groans. “We’re going to be part of the watch shifts tonight, aren’t we.”  
  
The camp has returned to business as usual by the time Lavellan and the kid are done at the lake. He seems to have loosened up some in the face of Lavellan’s unrelenting goodwill. 

“There’s room in the tents. We don’t have any extras I’m afraid, so you’ll have to share with either the scouts or Varric and Solas,” she’s telling him. 

The kid eyes the tents. He looks at the wolf, sunbathing in the dying light, and into the trees where the dragon vanished some few minutes ago. 

Varric nudges Cassandra in the ribs. “A silver says he’s going to want to sleep outside with the dragon.”

She snorts and shakes her head, declining to answer. 

“I’ll be fine outside,” the kid says firmly. 

“Told ya,” Varric comments sotto voce. 

Any further banter is cut off by the reappearance of the dragon, who shoots out of the trees to the tune of several alarmed cries but thankfully, this time, no actual shots fired. He drops two goats to the ground at Four’s feet. The kid groans. “Wild, I appreciate being fed, but you should know by now that I have no idea what to do to make an entire dead goat edible.”

Lavellan perks right up. “We can take care of that, if you don’t mind sharing. We’ll leave some aside for your wolf, too. Can he eat it raw or do you prefer we roast it? Oh! What does the dragon eat?”

The kid seems a little shell-shocked. Lavellan can have that effect on people. Once she gets going, there’s no stopping her. “Uh. Roasted for Wolfie, please.”

“Great!” Varric can see the cogs in her head turning as she eyes the dragon. “Do you think you could convince him to bring back more?”

“Wild, no!” Too late. The dragon’s gone. The kid groans. “You’re about to have more goats than you know what to do with. He likes to feed people.” 

Lavellan laughs. “That’s fine. There are hungry refugees at the crossroads. Trust me, the food won’t go to waste.”

  
\- - -

  
Varric steps out of his tent in the early morning hours, ready to take over the watch from Solas, only to find the man locked in a staring contest with the wolf. The kid is curled up with his back pressed to the wolf’s side, the dragon a loose circle around them both. Only Fuzzy there is awake, head raised, everything about him perfectly still. 

“Isn’t eye contact some kind of threat with canines?” Varric is no animal man, but he picked up a few things from repeated exposure to Hawke’s mabari. 

“Indeed.”

“And you’re deliberately antagonizing the big, scary predator because…?”

“It is nothing you need concern yourself with, Master Tethras. Good night.” So saying, Solas stands and carts his hobo ass off to bed, leaving Varric alone with an aggravated animal whose teeth, when standing, are level with Varric’s throat. The wolf turns it's glare to Varric instead. Varric holds out empty hands. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one you should have a problem with, here.”

The wolf lowers his head with a huff, resting his chin on top of the dragon, glaring out into the night. Varric sits on the log Solas vacated, using slow, careful movements. This is going to be a long watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan, an elf who's been separated from her family and basically conscripted to lead a war: Look at this poor elven kid who's been separated from his family and is fighting for his life.
> 
> Cassandra, famous for killing a dragon: Yes but the dragon.
> 
> Solas, secretly an ancient elven god who is also a wolf: Yes but the wolf!
> 
> Varric, survivor of Kirkwall and recent kidnap victim: I smell bullshit but I will defend this kid from the rest of you if I have to, see if I don't.


	3. The Traveler

The wind changes direction in the morning. Four is powering through his breakfast, using a constantly full mouth to avoid taking part in any more interrogation disguised as “friendly conversation.” Wolfie sits up, suddenly alert. He makes a little 'boof' noise at Four and looks to the northwest. 

Found someone. Praise Hylia. 

Lavellan and her entourage insist on coming with. “That’s the direction of the Templar encampment,” she explains. Four has no idea what Templars are, but the grim way she says it and the determined look in her eye say he’s going to have to try harder than that to slip away from these people. 

“Trust me, it’s easier to just give in.” Varric slaps his shoulder. 

\- - -

“Where you from, kid?”

Hylia save him, this man is worse than Legend and Warriors combined when it comes to relentlessly sniffing out things people don’t want to tell them. Now that they’re back on the road, Four doesn’t really have an excuse to avoid him. “I prefer Four. Or Smith.”

“Right. So where you from, Smithy?”

“Castle Town.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s a long way from here.”

They’ve fallen into the same formation as yesterday. Lavellan and Cassandra in the lead, Varric walking next to Four and Wolfie, Solas bringing up the rear. Four’s back itches with the holes the man is drilling into it. From the way the fur on Wolfie’s neck keeps bristling, he feels it too. 

Four is doing his best not to show it, but he’s worried. Wolfie isn’t acting like he’s overly bothered by his current predicament, but Wild seemed more subdued this morning than he did yesterday. And, well… Four has some experience with what it’s like to have your body changed outside of your control, is all.

“I’m a Free Marcher myself. Kirkwall. And yes, it’s as shitty as everyone says it is.”

Four has never come across a Kirkwall in any of the versions of Hyrule he’s been to thus far. Then again, he’s not convinced this _is_ Hyrule. He hums, noncommittal. 

Wild comes tearing out of the underbrush to drop a collection of swords, staves, and bows at Four’s feet. Four sighs. “Wild, I told you, I don’t have a way to carry all these.” He bends down to look anyway. Not having access to his Sheikah Slate hasn’t stopped Wild from picking up every last weapon or foodstuff to catch his eye. He just brings them to Four to carry instead. Four’s pack is already bulging with edibles he doesn’t know how to cook, trinkets to sell at the first opportunity, and a few ores he does have some actual interest in. He draws the line at weighing himself down with low quality weapons. He has _standards_. 

“This is a good staff.” Four tries not to jump at Solas suddenly speaking right beside him, leaning into his personal space to pick up the long magical rod in question. Wolfie growls. Four digs the toe of a boot into his leg. There’s protective and then there’s needlessly antagonistic. 

“You can have it,” he tells the man. He has no use for it, after all. 

None of the rest of it is better than anything he or any of the others are already carrying. Four stands, brushing himself off. “Thank you, Wild, but I can make better weapons than this.” It’s as gentle a reminder as he can make in current company that Wild now has one of said weapons locked away in his inventory. He doesn’t need to hoard shitty swords anymore. 

“Pile the rest up off to the side of the road,” Lavellan suggests. “Our soldiers will be coming through behind us to clean up the area.”

And likely keep the best weapons for themselves, selling the rest to line this “Inquisition's” coffers, but no matter. 

“Bodies ahead,” Cassandra suddenly calls. 

The first one they come to is surrounded by a spilled pile of the man’s own guts. The style of his armor is the same as the ones Four, Twilight, and Wild fought yesterday. “Templar knight,” Cassandra confirms. 

“Someone got here before us.” Lavellan has her daggers in hand, scanning a watchful eye across the loose grouping of tents. 

“There is the possibility that the one responsible is still here, and no friendlier to us than the Templars.”

“Keep your eyes open.” Lavellan orders. “Try to keep your companions close,” she adds to Four. Wild has already disappeared again, but Wolfie is glued to Four’s side, ready to take on any comers. 

The next two bodies were also killed by the blade. Then they find a group of them, all charred to a crisp, and something about the scene starts a nagging sense of familiarity up in a corner of Four’s brain. He hasn't kept himself together as well as he does by ignoring those little feelings. He scans the scene, trying to let that part of his mind come forward. 

Wolfie gives him a nudge. Four glances down to find Wolfie’s ears pricked towards one of the tents. Four follows his line of sight and catches his breath when he sees a small, bobbing light just visible in the shadows of the tent. 

A fairy. The first he’s found here. 

The others are distracted: Varric in the middle of picking a locked chest, the rest in serious conversation over the immolated corpses. Four meanders his way slowly to the tent, acting like he’s looking for anything useful among the disheveled camp. 

It is a fairy, but not just any fairy. Four sucks in a surprised breath, meeting the eyes of the Hero of Hyrule in miniature. He’s glowing, backed by the blur of tiny wings beating a mile a minute to keep him hovering at eye level, but it’s definitely him. He looks moments away from panic.

The others are far too close. They can’t talk here. Four turns his back on the tent, adjusting the collar of his large hood to make the trailing end of it bounce and jump against his back. Hyrule gets the message. There comes lightest brush against Four’s neck, a slight tug of fabric, and a negligible weight settles between his shoulder blades. 

Somewhere on the other side of the camp, Wild whistles. All attention jerks towards the dragon. 

“That’s the direction their main encampment is supposed to be,” Lavellan states, turning her head to seek out Four. Halfway to them, Four stops and squints. 

“He found more bodies.”

\- - -

They find a dozen Templars dead by electrocution at the main encampment. That confirms it for Four: it was definitely Hyrule’s magic at work here. But Four has seen him after using Thunder. That spell alone usually wipes him out. For Hyrule to use Thunder, and multiple fire spells, and likely his shield spell too? How many magic restoration potions did he go through?

The others split into pairs to examine the camp, faces grim. Four sits himself down on an out-of-the-way stool with an air of finality. Wolfie drops to his haunches between Four and the camp, standing guard and shielding him from view. Wild curls himself into the space between Four and the trees, waiting expectantly. Four pulls up his hood, hiding his face from view and completing the image of a young man upset by the carnage, taking solace from his animal companions. It cuts off his peripheral vision, but Wolfie can warn them of unwelcome eavesdroppers. It’s as private as they’re going to get. 

“Are you all right?” He murmurs, voice as low as he can make it. 

The hood shifts. Small hands tug at his hair as Hyrule climbs out of the pointed end and settles on his collar. “I- yes. I think so. The magic here, Four. It’s very odd.” 

Wild makes a concerned grumbling noise. 

Hyrule jerks, wings fluttering against Four’s neck. “Wild!?”

Wild-the-dragon nods. That cat’s well and truly out of the bag, then. Between the coloration and the distinct scarring, Wild really is highly recognizable. Which means Wolfie’s secret probably won’t last much longer. It won’t take much more for the rest of them to put two and two together. 

“How-?”

“The magic here is very odd,” Four returns, dry as dust. “We’re following Wolfie’s nose to the others. Hopefully one of them has a solution.” A pause as he weighs his next words. “This was all you, wasn’t it. How are you not unconscious?” 

“The magic...” Hyrule falls silent. Four waits. Being pushed around just makes Hyrule clam up, unless it happens to be Legend doing the pushing. 

“I came out in the mountains yesterday, alone,” Hyrule continues, all in a rush. “I hiked all night and got to this camp this morning. Came out right over there.” A tiny hand waves in Four’s peripheral vision, towards the clump of electrocuted bodies. “They attacked me. They didn’t even try to talk. I tried to get away, down the path towards the road, but just kept finding more of them.” He pauses for a breath. Wild makes a sympathetic little purring noise. It’s surprisingly quiet, given his size. Wolfie’s ears are tipped towards them, listening. “It was easy,” Hyrule whispers, a confession. “I’ve never felt magic like this. When I had to use Thunder right at the start I thought I was just buying myself breathing room to take a potion, but I never had to. I just kept casting. I kept expecting to have to stop but I never did.” 

Four tips his chin down, can only make out the top of Hyrule’s bowed head, his wringing hands. “When I heard you on the road I thought you were more of them,” Hyrule continues. “There wasn’t anywhere to hide but the tents. I shifted forms so I could try sneaking under the back edge when I saw Wolfie.”

“So changing like this is something you’ve always been able to do?”

“...Yes?” Hyrule suddenly sounds a hundred times more hesitant. 

Four shrugs, one-shouldered so as not to jostle his passenger. “Okay. I don’t suppose that means you have a convenient solution for Wild’s problem?” 

“No,” Hyrule’s voice has gone so soft Four can barely hear it. “I’m sorry. This spell has a very specific effect. I don’t think it will work against a curse of involuntary transformation.”

Wild’s head is suddenly in Four’s personal space. It takes an iron grip on himself not to jump and jostle his passenger. Wild tips his horns away, nudging gently at Hyrule. Hyrule laughs a little. 

Wolfie lets out a warning little huff of a bark, startling all three of them. Out of time. “It might be best if you keep hiding until I can get a feel for how the people here are going to react,” Four whispers in a rush. “You can stick with me or hitch a ride with Wild. He hasn’t been staying that close, they might be less likely to notice you with him.” 

And it reduces the chances of Hyrule being accidentally squashed by a stray pat on Four’s back. 

“Do you mind?” Hyrule asks Wild. Wild snorts. Another quick flutter of wings against Four’s neck as Hyrule lifts off, darting through the air and tucking himself into the fur at the back of Wild’s head. 

Wolfie growls again. Showtime. 

“...powerful apostate.”

“I still say there had to be at least two. Those cuts were from a sword, not a staff blade.”

“Four? Are you all right?”

He scrubs his hands vigorously over his cheeks, as if waking himself from a stupor, and keeps his shoulders hunched. As... _aggravating_ as it is to be mistaken for a child, he’s willing to play up the youth card if it means protecting Hyrule. “I’m fine. Are we done here? I’d like to keep looking for my companions.”

He pushes Wild’s head out of his personal space so he can stand. Lavellan moves around to where he can see her past the edge of his hood, stopping at Wolfie’s warning growl. She ducks down, trying to see his face. He peers up at her, schooling his expression to a neutral mask. 

“We can go; we have what we need,” Lavellan says, voice soft. Guilt is a little twinge in a corner of his mind, easily pushed aside in favor of practicality. So long as her attention is on him, it isn’t on Wild or his glowing passenger. 

He nods, shouldering past her and Wolfie both to start back down the path. Wild darts ahead of them. Wolfie slinks along at his side, still playing the guardian, as the Inquisition members trail behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so as far as I can figure, there's a significant increase in the availability of magic in Thedas versus Hyrule. In the Dragon Age games a mage character can cast a basic magic attack non-stop, no matter their health level. The only cooldowns are on the big power moves. Magic users are also very, very common as compared to LoZ. I'm interpreting all of this to mean that accessing magic in Hyrule (the world) is a lot harder and so dropping Hyrule (the character) in this environment would be like giving him a lake when he's used to a kiddie pool.


	4. The Sailor

Varric watches the easy way Four strides down the uneven path. The wolf flicks its ears back towards them as it keeps pace at his side. Neither slow as they disappear around a bend. “Any guesses on what he’s hiding?” 

“If he knows who did this-” Cassandra starts, voice tight.

Lavellan shakes her head, more in thought than denial. “What has he told you about this group he was travelling with, Varric?”

“Not much. Kid could give _me_ lessons in how to dodge a question. What about you? You two seemed to be getting pretty friendly at the lake last night.”

“We spent most of the time talking about his business. Either he really is a blacksmith or he’s very good at pretending to be one.”

The path widens as it meets back up with the main road. The wolf has his nose to the wind, looking up the road to their left. The same direction they need to travel in order to reach Horsemaster Dennet. Convenient, that. Or suspicious. 

The kid has paused rather than start up the road without them. He’s put his hood back down, fiddling with his feathered earring as he waits. His mouth is moving. Talking to himself? 

“I do not like the idea of leaving an unknown power at our backs.” Cassandra states for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Lavellan stops, skimming over the ransacked camp with the air of someone who is looking at something entirely different than what their eyes are seeing. “The Templars willingly engaged in war.”

“This was done by one person, perhaps two. We are looking at the scene of an assassination.”

“Which happens in war.” Lavellan shakes her head at the return to the circular argument. She looks tired. Varric can relate. “Send a raven to Scout Harding, have her investigate. Our purpose here is to quell the fighting and acquire horses for the Inquisition. If the first is done then we must focus on the second, whether or not we are happy with the method.”

Cassandra gives a tight nod. The kid is still talking to no one, rubbing at his forehead. The wolf is halfway up the road, the dragon visible in flashes of blue among the trees nearby. 

“Stay on him,” Lavellan murmurs to Varric. 

“Planning on it, Your Worship.” 

Her nose wrinkles. Varric laughs. 

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

“You got it, Boss.”

Varric stays where he is as the women start off again. “Speaking of suspicious happenings,” he throws casually at Solas, “What’s going on with you and that wolf?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” Solas continues past without a second glance. 

Ass.

\- - -

Shouting comes from just over a small rise in the road. The wolf perks up and takes off. “Wolfie?” Four calls, hurrying his steps. 

The indistinct yelling resolves itself into words as they draw near. “Come at me, scallywags!” Four startles and breaks into a sprint. 

“Four!” Lavellan charges after him. 

By the time Varric catches up to everyone else, there’s nothing left to kill. Just five dead wolves on the ground. For a moment Varric’s heart sinks until he spots Wolfie putting up with enthusiastic scritches from a laughing elven boy. The new kid is not a day over thirteen, face an open book of delight, clothing that wouldn’t look out of place aboard one of Isabella’s ships. Blood drips off the sword in his hand. 

“Wind!” Four takes the newcomer by the shoulders, checking him over. Varric is starting to have a suspicion about the general age range of this group that the smith is trying to reunite with. 

“Four, Wolfie! You’re here!” The new kid spots Wild. His eyes widen, his mouth opens-

“I’m sure Wild will be happy to see you too once he gets his head out of the clouds,” Four interrupts whatever Wind was about to say. 

The look of surprise morphs into pure calculation. Varric’s instincts sit up, taking notice.

“Wild!” The kid suddenly hollers, hands cupped around his mouth. “Wild come down here and give me a ride!”

...Right. What else was he expecting? Varric shakes his head with a chuckle, expects Four to veto that right away. Four just looks contemplative. As if this is an idea with merit and he’s not sure why he wasn’t the one to think of it. It’s the _wolf_ that growls, taking the hem of Wind’s tunic into his teeth and giving a sharp little tug. 

The dragon comes down out of the trees, whistling excitedly. Strangely, he doesn’t close the distance he’s been maintaining since the Templar encampment. It certainly seems like he wants to.

“Okay,” Lavellan cuts in, “Why don’t we save the dragon riding for another time. Maybe introductions first?”

‘Later,’ Four mouths at Wind, completely lacking any subtlety. Wind gives an excited fist pump. 

“These wolves,” Cassandra murmurs to Solas as Four introduces his companion to Lavellan and she compliments the kid on his swordsmanship. “That was not normal behavior. They were far too aggressive.” Solas nods. The skin around his eyes is tight. 

Wind scoffs at Lavellan’s compliment. “That was easy! I’ve faced a lot worse than a couple of wolfos.”

“I see.” She does? Varric doesn’t see. What in the Maker’s name is a wolfos? “I’m still glad we found you. Four has been worried about you and the rest of your family.”

“You don’t need to worry, Four! Now you’ve got me and Wild and Wolfie to protect you!”

Varric is expecting a degree of brotherly exasperation. Four just smiles, fond. “I sure do.”

\- - -

“Inquisition, eh? Someone beat you here.” Horsemaster Dennet is a weathered man with not one iota of tact. He ignores Lavellan’s startled sputtering, instead casting a critical eye over the pair of young elves lurking off to the side of their little conversation. “Those boys relatives of yours?”

Wind perks up. “We are looking for our group! Were they all blond, Hylian like us? Uh… carrying a bunch of swords?”

“Never heard of a Hylian. They were all elves. Tall chap in plate, two in chainmail, and an angry fellow in the strangest mage’s robe I’ve ever seen.”

“Was the angry one wearing red? Blue hat?” Four asks in the most hopeful tone of voice Varric has yet heard from him.

“That he was.”

“Legend,” they chorus together. “That’s them,” Four confirms. 

Dennet turns back to Lavellan. “I would have told you to talk to my wife and my lead ranch hand, but they’ve already done it. Went off to take care of the wolf problem we’ve been having. Think they were going to take a look at the rift just up the road first. It’s been spitting out demons, can’t go near it.”

“A rift? Which way?” Lavellan asks, suddenly intense. 

“North. Just keep following the road.” 

Lavellan nods, shooing the rest of them ahead of her. “We need to go help them with that rift; they take a particular kind of magic to seal. We’ll be back.”

“Whatever you say, Inquisition.” 

\- - -

“There they are!” Wind bounds forward, waving. “Guys!” It's a little funny how fast the four elven heads swivel around, zeroing in on their party. The Smithy’s shoulders slump forward in relief. 

It’s a much more peaceful scene than most of the others Varric has come upon in recent memory. No demons, no bodies, just a few elves arguing over a dormant rift. Even inactive, those things make Varric’s insides want to curl up. 

Green sparks on Lavellan’s marked hand. She hisses, shaking the hand out as if she’d accidentally picked up a hot coal.

The rift flares to life, spewing demons into the waking world.

Cassandra shouts, charging forward. The wolf barks. Chaos. 

The thing about fighting in a group is, as focused as you have to be on your enemies, you have to be equally aware of the movements of your allies. 

Kirkwall taught Varric to be very good at fighting in a group. 

Something about the way the elves move doesn’t match with what he’s expecting. New as he is to working with them, Varric has no trouble with keeping Cassandra, Solas, and Lavellan out of Bianca’s firing line. But he has to jerk the crossbow’s nose away with a curse when the fellow in the white cape rolls unexpectedly between him and the wraith he was targeting. It happens again a moment later with Wind, and that one makes his heart about freeze in his chest. 

He’s not the only one having trouble. The tall chap in full plate startles badly when Lavellan whirls around him, using him as a distraction to get close to her target in a move that anyone who’s ever fought with a rogue should know to anticipate. Solas is off with the aim of his barriers, only managing to shield one or two of them per cast when he’d usually catch at least three. Only Cassandra doesn’t seem to be having any issues, falling into an easy side-by-side with the one in the blue scarf, swords and shields covering each other’s backs. 

Varric doesn’t figure out what it is until he sees the one in red - a mage, judging from all the fire he’s been tossing around - switch his strange, short staff out for a sword. 

Not even the Dalish train their mages in both magic and swordplay. 

The mage isn’t the only one to switch weapons in the midst of battle, now that Varric’s looking. Tall and Armored shoulders his sword long enough to nail a wraith with an arrow from across the battlefield. Wind flies through the air to hit an emerging terror in the head with a hammer as long as he is tall. White Cape snags a swiping claw with some kind of whip, pulling the demon towards him and into range of Four’s sword. Every time one of them switches weapons, their fighting style - and the way Varric’s subconscious expects them to move - shifts. 

Despite the snags, the demons themselves aren’t all that difficult to deal with. It might have almost been a faster fight with fewer people: less tripping over each other. But soon enough the last enemy falls and Lavellan raises her marked hand towards the rift, the green portal disappearing with a small shockwave of air. 

“That’s it?” The mage cries, outraged. “That’s all it took?”

None of his companions pay this outburst any mind. They’re too busy having a small reunion. 

Wind is being fussed over by Blue Scarf. And by ‘fussed over,’ Varric means ‘put into a headlock so his assailant can mercilessly noogie and/or tickle every part of his body within reach.’ “Warrior!” The kid hisses, finally resorting to a solid pinch on the man’s unarmored knee when his punches go ignored. He’s released with a curse. 

“Old Man!” Four snags the attention of Tall and Armored. Varric’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. The guy is maybe mid thirties. Certainly younger than Varric. 

“If he’s old what does that make me? A relic?” He mutters to Solas. The joke falls on deaf ears. Solas is distracted by all the glaring he’s doing, shifting his scowl between the wolf and Tall and Armored. (Varric refuses to think of the man as ‘Old’ anything. He has more self-respect than that.) Varric hasn’t seen Solas give anyone a stare quite so unfriendly since he met Curly. What did Tall and Armored do to deserve that?

Said man leans down to have a quick, hushed conversation with Four, before nodding to White Cape. 

“Sky, I need your help with something,” Four says to the guy, pointing into the woods and receiving swift and unquestioning agreement. The two of them start to slip off, the wolf close at Four’s side. Varric suddenly realizes he’s lost track of the dragon again. He’s not entirely sure when it happened. 

“Varric,” Lavellan murmurs, indicating the vanishing duo. Varric nods, shouldering Bianca. At his first step forward, Tall and Armored moves into his path. The mage - and describing him as ‘angry’ really is a good defining feature - comes up on his side. The rough-housing going on with Wind and Blue Scarf is suddenly quieter, their bodies angled towards the rest of the group, paying attention. Varric is no fool. He puts his hands up, stepping back. 

“Just wanted to make sure Smithy there was okay.”

Tall and Armored nods. This guy is the very definition of stone-faced. “Thank you. You’ll forgive us for wanting to assure ourselves of his well-being first.”

Lavellan stiffens, upset. “Those who treat elves as lesser are not welcome in the Inquisition, and I do not travel with any who would harm a child.”

Was that a flicker of confusion? Another nod, as stately as the first. “Then you’ll allow Four his privacy while we check.” 

“Are you his father?” Cassandra asks. Her version of diplomacy. 

A hint of an expression past the mask of calm. The mage scoffs loudly. Wind grins. Blue Scarf hides his mouth behind a hand. Tall and Armored ignores the byplay with an air of long practice. “No, but I take the well-being of my companions very personally. As do we all.”

“Perhaps you will understand if we have concerns of our own about his well-being, when he travels with a group that left two of its youngest members to fend for themselves in the midst of a war,” Solas cuts in. 

Lavellan gives Solas a quelling look. “The circumstances we found Four in were worrying,” she states in a slightly more diplomatic tone. “He hasn’t been particularly forthcoming. How is it you all know each other?”

Varric nudges Solas, pulling him back for a whispered conversation as the man responds to Lavellan.

_“We are merely travelers.”_

_“From?”_

“So what’s with the looks you keep giving our friend there?”

“He contains a power he should not have.”

“I didn’t see him using any magic. Thought that was all the angry one.”

_“Hyrule.”_

_“Is that… in the Anderfels?”_

“He did not,” Cassandra confirms. She’s staring down the mage. He doesn’t seem intimidated. Guy’s got guts. “And yet I agree with Solas. Something about him is… strange.”

“That’s certainly specific.” Odd for these two to agree on something relating to magic, though. Varric makes a mental note to mark the occasion. 

“It’s a long way away,” the angry one breaks through both conversations. “It's not as important as how you closed that thing. Was it a spell or an item?”

Lavellan shakes her head. “No spell. I am not a mage.”

“An item then.” He makes a disgusted noise, adding under his breath, “With our luck it’s one of a kind and there’s no workaround without it.”

Any further commentary is cut off by Four returning to the clearing. He’s brought more friends, of the two legged variety. 

Isn't this becoming quite the party. 


	5. The Deity

Four sees Time make note of Wolfie, of Wild hovering at the back of the group. He meets Four’s eyes, beckoning. Four sidles in close so Time can lean down and murmur, “Have Sky help you. The sword. We’ll run interference.” 

Sky is willing as ever to help. Four follows him away from the remnants of that strange portal, looking for any hint of Sky's usual post-exertion fatigue. There is none. Maybe it's a good day, or maybe the adrenaline simply hasn’t faded yet. Wolfie slinks along at Four’s side, ears pinned, and Four realizes his mistake. “I can go get Time instead,” he murmurs. Wolfie shakes his head, eyes on Sky. He’s about to let someone else in on his little secret, then. Good.

“What did you need me for?” Sky asks once they’re out of view. 

“Time said you could help with our problem.” Four gestures to Wild, who’s just come snaking out of the trees with a now-normal sized Hyrule at his side.

“Oh!” Sky startles. “Wild?” 

The dragon chirps a greeting. Sky grins, drawing the Master Sword. “This is becoming a bit of a habit. Let’s get you changed back then.”

Wild snorts, but when Sky sets the Master Sword on a rock and steps away he doesn’t hesitate to come forward and touch it. 

Nothing happens. 

Sky frowns. “That should have worked.” 

A thought pops up in a corner of Four’s mind. “The spell hit you both at the same time,” he murmurs to Wolfie, as quietly as he can. This isn’t his secret to give away. 

Wolfie huffs, hesitates, steps forward. Under the confused stares of Sky and Hyrule he hops up to put his front paws on the rock, reaching forward to rest one lightly on the sword. He looks at Wild. Wild pushes his nose against the sword a second time. 

A flash of light. Flecks of shadow fade into the air. Two champions appear where a dragon and a wolf just stood. A black and orange totem drops to the stone between them.

Wild immediately over-balances and sits down hard. Twilight lunges around the rock to check on him, ignoring the stares from Sky and Hyrule. 

Wild’s mouth opens and closes twice before he apparently gives up and raises his hands instead. _‘Is it like that every time?’_ he signs. 

Twilight laughs. “You get used to it,” he says, helping Wild to his feet.

“You’re Wolfie.” Hyrule sounds dazed. Sky picks up the sword, returning it silently to its sheath. Hard to tell how he’s feeling about the news; he’s always so careful about showing anger. “You’re Wolfie. And you knew!” Hyrule turns suddenly to Four. 

Four shrugs, unrepentant. “I know how to keep a secret,” he reminds Hyrule. “On that subject, Twilight, if you don’t want this to go any farther you might want to change back again, now that you can. Wind already knows Wild was the dragon. If we leave with two animals and come back with none it won’t take them long to put the rest together.”

 _‘Or let them figure it out,'_ Wild suggests. _‘Who doesn’t know at this point? Just Warrior and Wind?’_

Four is confused. When did Legend find out? But Twilight just winces. “It isn’t fair to them that they’re the only two not to know, yes. I’ll tell them.” 

“Soon,” Sky murmurs.

“Yeah. Soon. But not in front of this world’s people. Once we’re alone.”

Four nods. “Best change back, then.”

\- - -

“What’s going on?” Four slips back into the clearing, walking easily between Wolfie and Sky. Wild and Hyrule trail behind them.

“Hyrule! Wild!” Wind shouts. He pelts across the clearing to slug Wild in the arm and is promptly captured in another headlock. “Wild!” He hollers, pushing and shoving. “Leave off! Fuck, why was I happy to see you?”

Hyrule moves forward to greet the rest of their companions, but Four is watching expressions carefully. Any moment now...

“You’re the dragon.” All other movement stops. 

Varric. Of course, Varric. For all Solas and Cassandra’s overt suspicion, Varric is watchful. He notices things.

Wild shrugs. Still not quite verbal. Probably won’t be, until some of the attention is back off of him and he has a chance to regain his equilibrium. 

“Look, kid,” Varric continues into the stunned silence. “I only know of one other person who is sometimes dragon shaped, and she turned out to be an ancient elven deity. So maybe you can understand if I’d appreciate a slightly more thorough explanation? Or any at all?”

Elven deity? “There was a spell. It’s fixed now.” Four says. 

“What kind of spell turns a person into a dragon?”

Varric’s question goes ignored, because the rest of the Hylians present have finally woken up enough to comment. 

“You’re all right?” Legend asks. For a guy who talks so big, he’s mighty protective when any of them might actually be hurt. 

_'I’m fine,'_ Wild says. _'Not being able to turn back was shitty, but the rest was fun. The only part that hurt was getting hit by the spell.'_ He ends with a cheery smile and a thumbs up for those not fluent in sign. 

Legend nods, satisfied with this response, then grabs Wild by the shoulders and shakes him. Four catches words that sound suspiciously like ‘worried’ and ‘never do that again’ before he’s distracted by Lavellan’s hand on his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you say anything? We would have helped.” 

“Wasn’t sure I could trust you,” Four returns easily. Still isn’t, if he’s being honest. 

“So we’re just missing Twilight,” Warrior notes, arms crossed. 

“He was with me,” Hyrule lies, gesturing back down the road. “He wanted to scout around.”

“Tch. Typical.”

“So we’re going after those wolves now, right?” Wind looks up at Time, anxious as ever to be where the action is. 

"Yes," Time states with finality. “We will follow through with our word to Master Dennet, and then we will be on our way.”

Lavellan exhales. A brief moment of internal conflict crosses her face before she nods. "We'll be coming along," she states, equally unyielding. "There may be more rifts."

Varric gives Four a friendly slap on the back. “Guess you’re stuck with my charming company for a little longer.”

\- - -

Wolfie’s ears prick. He takes off up the road, faster than anyone can catch him. Wild coughs. “Found something,” he says aloud, voice rough. 

A few minutes later Twilight jogs back up the path to meet them. He accepts Wind’s enthusiastic greeting with good grace, clapping Wild on the shoulder. “Wolfie just came to get me,” he says, covering for his sudden appearance. “There’s one of those strange portals down in the valley ahead. Looks big. Two monsters already walking around that I could see. One tall and green, one that looks like a poe; floating, black tunic.”

“We had the green ones at the last portal,” Legend offers. “They can dive underground and come up under your feet. Scream like one of Time’s re-deads; you can’t move.”

“Wonderful.”

“What’s the terrain like,” Warrior asks, eyes narrowed in thought as Twilight describes a dead end; a pool at the bottom of a waterfall, surrounded by rock cliffs on three sides. 

“One archer for each enemy,” Warrior determines. “That’s Varric and Wild. Hyrule and Solas on defense and support. Legend and Twilight use hookshots to control their movement. The rest of us split up, spread around so they can’t take out an entire chunk of us at once.” He checks with the Inquisition members, receiving nods of agreement. 

They arrange themselves, coming into range of the green portal as prepared as they can be. Four focuses on breathing, the state of his body, the familiar hilt in his hand. It’s good to have everyone at his back again, but that doesn’t mean he can afford to get sloppy. 

It is instantly obvious that this battle will be far more difficult than they anticipated. These so-called demons are stronger than the last they’d faced by the same order of magnitude as an infected monster compared to a normal one. Even prepared for the fight, the ferocity of the resistance they face catches them off guard. 

Four is on Time’s left, so he’s in prime position to see it when the Old Man takes a hit from the poe lookalike straight away. He drops to his knees with a cry, his armor iced over.

“Old Man!”

“Someone distract that thing!”

“Hyrule, heal him!” 

“I did! He isn’t getting up!”

Hyrule meets Four’s stare across the top of Time’s bowed head. Four squares his jaw and lurches into motion, trusting Hyrule to keep Time out of harm’s way. 

Flame erupts around Hyrule’s sword. Four sees the Inquisition members falter, heads whipping around. Distraction they can’t afford; Cassandra catches a blow that sends her flying, rolling off the rocks and into the shallow water with a splash. She’s back on her feet immediately, bloody and pissed off. Solas’ version of a shield spell appears around her.

Hyrule swings. Two fireballs go flying off the end of his sword. One connects, and the poe wails, goes spinning across the cove to where Four is waiting. Legend's hookshot snags it, sends it slamming to the ground at Four's feet. He gets in one good hit before it tears itself free and goes flying across the battlefield once again. A fire arrow from Wild drives it down into range of Warrior. Like this, they harry it from one end of the cove to the other.

Hyrule is kept busy, flinging fireballs at their enemies and healing or protective spells over their allies in equal number. Even with Hyrule's story from this morning fresh in Four's mind, it's strange to see him using that much magic. 

Four is paying too much attention to the poe lookalike and not enough to the green one. A blow out of nowhere sends him flying. 

Impact. Four bounces and skids across stone and water alike, picking up scrapes and bruises as he goes. Something pops in his shoulder. He comes to a stop near Time, has barely registered the pain when Hyrule’s healing magic hits him. The throb in his shoulder vanishes as if it never was. 

Having Hyrule like this would be dangerously easy to get used to. 

He’s back on his feet in time to see the green terror melt into goo, a spear of ice sticking out of its chest, Solas stone-faced before it. A final blow from Warrior sends the poe wailing into nothing.

“Time!” Twilight sprints past Four. He whirls around to see the Old Man still on his knees. His good eye has gone strangely milky, red stripes like those on his bad side starting to fade in on the opposite cheekbone. His eye flits back and forth, his jaw working around unspoken words in a way that reminds Four strongly, uncomfortably, of himself.

The portal wakes again, a muffled bang of displaced air warning of more company soon to come. 

“Control it, Time,” Twilight demands. 

“Prepare yourselves!”

Four spins towards the portal. His heart lands in his feet. Two more of the green monsters and two more of the poes tear themselves free of whatever otherworld the portal is drawing them from. Time is still down. Twilight is forced to break away from him, catching a claw on his shield. He and Four drive the demon desperately back. 

Warrior doesn’t move fast enough, catches a direct shot of ice. He rolls and falls still. Wind leaps over him, stopping what would have been a fatal blow on his shield. Hyrule's healing magic falls over Warrior. Whatever Time is fighting isn't a problem for him; Warrior springs back to his feet. Sky’s whip is working overtime, pulling claws away from their marks, but the weapon leaves him far too vulnerable for close quarters combat. He’s forced to dodge and dodge again. They're losing ground. 

“Hyrule!” Time’s voice is positively ragged, but it still carries across the noise of battle. “Reflect!” 

Four can’t turn to see what happens, but he feels the results. A sensation like a wash of cool water rushes over him moments before the cove is engulfed in flame. The poes wail. Four’s vision returns in time to see one of them dissolving with three crossbow bolts sticking out of its hood, the other swiftly dispatched by Twilight. 

“Watch below!” Legend roars. One of the two green demons reappears from where it took cover from the flames underground. Varric and Wind double over under the effects of its scream. 

“Cover!” Sky shouts, the Master Sword raised to the heavens. Legend swoops in beside him, catching a claw aimed at his head. Sky sweeps the sword down, releasing a scything arc of energy that flies over Legend and carves a deep gouge in the demon’s chest. Lavellan leaps into the air behind it, landing on its back with daggers leading. Twilight’s hookshot catches the claw that tries to sweep her off. The demon falls, dissolving into goop. Lavellan rolls free. 

The ground under Four’s feet goes green. He dives out of the way. A crossbow bolt takes the emerging demon in the face, interrupting it mid-scream. Four lunges back in, swiping at its legs, trying to stay ahead of the claws. A hookshot catches it on one arm, holding the limb outstretched for Wind to cut clean off. The other claw takes a swipe at Four. He ducks, hears a slick squelching sound above his head and looks up to see Cassandra withdrawing her sword from its chest. The final demon dissolves. 

Four turns away as Lavellan scrambles up onto a rock, holding her outstretched arm towards the portal, closing it as she did before. 

Time is still on his knees even as everyone else is finding their feet. He’s panting harshly, sweat standing out on his forehead. 

“Old Man, talk to us.” Twilight crouches in front of Time once again. “What do you need?”

“Fighting me... strong.” 

Four sees both Cassandra and Solas jolt to attention at those words. 

Hadn’t Hyrule said the same thing about the magic here? If it’s an excess of magic that’s causing the problem, then the most obvious solution… Four shoves at Time’s shoulder. “What’s your most taxing spell?” 

Time’s breath is positively ragged. “Fire,” he rasps. 

That _had_ been a significant spell he’d unleashed just now. As destructive as Hyrule’s thunder, and just as indiscriminate. Four whirls around. “Legend! Hyrule! We need to ice this entire pool!”

Legend nods, starts digging in his bag, but Hyrule shakes his head. “I don’t have-”

“I do,” Wild cuts in, pulling out his slate. 

Everyone with any kind of ice or water item gets in on the act. Even Solas participates, a fancy twirl of his staff prelude to him slamming the butt end on the ground. Icy walls shoot out from the point of impact. 

The overall results are a hideously ugly conglomeration of magic, but it does the job. Soon the entire area is encased. 

Four tugs at Twilight’s arm until the rancher allows himself to be moved away from Time. “Everyone back! Hyrule, we’ll need your reflect spell again.” Hyrule is finally starting to look like he’s reaching the end of his reserves, but he nods, readies himself. 

“Fire, Time. As much as you can.” 

Time staggers to the middle of the clearing. Takes a deep breath, centers his stance. The move that follows is practiced and fluid and ends with him slamming an open palm onto the iced-over pool he’s standing in the middle of. 

Fire. 

Hyrule screams out an incantation. Four loses sight of Time instantly as ice flashes into steam, filling the cove. Still fire. Four can see Solas frantically casting in his peripheral vision. Wave after wave of water and ice speed around them. 

Wild swears, yanks out his paraglider. He rides the updraft created by the flames to the rocks lining the top of the little cove, using an ice rod to keep the fire from spreading as it spills out over the top of the rocky backdrop. Wind has a baton in hand and is spinning the air into a spiral, helping keep the fire contained in a column. 

Still more fire. 

“This is very big and obvious!” Legend yells. 

“Better than the alternative!” Four still isn’t sure what, exactly, Time was fighting. Nothing good, and that’s all he needs to know.

“Just be on the lookout for more company!”

The fire fades. 

Varric is the first to break the silence. He whistles, long and slow. Twilight rushes forward.

In the clearing, Time regains his feet. He is surrounded by nothing but blackened stone. His eye is clear, the markings on his face as they usually are. Four feels something in his chest unclench. 

At his back, another storm explodes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time: I may look like I don't have a drop of magic, but actually I'm carrying around an ancient being who earned a name like Fierce Deity and if given an inch will take over my body. 
> 
> Thedas, the world where incorporeal beings being invited into mortal bodies regularly causes Serious Problems and oh yes we may have mentioned that the magic here is unexpectedly strong: Honey you are in for a surprise.


	6. The Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thank you all for reading, I hope the ending satisfies.

“Get out of the way, Lavellan. The man is possessed!”

“You don’t know that.” 

“The fuck was that, Old Man?”

“Back off!”

“I know what I see with my own two eyes. We need to take him into custody.”

“If you touch him you’ll answer to me.”

“Into custody? For what crime?”

“Fuck no! We won’t let you near him, right guys?”

“Are you all right?”

“Do you have any idea what it is you carry? Such a being should be approached with respect.”

“Respect, Solas? It is a demon!” 

“Don’t talk about him like that!”

“Let’s all just calm down.”

“Demon?”

“What precisely is he accused of?”

“Divine Justinia is _dead_ at the hands of an unknown mage!”

“Yes, Seeker, unknown! Are you so eager for vengeance that you would cast your threats at every display of power to wave itself under your nose?”

“That was no mere display of power, Solas!”

Varric keeps his trap shut as everyone around him loses their minds. 

Time is a mage. 

Time, the big guy dressed in full plate armor, who could put on a helmet and walk straight into a Templar encampment without earning himself a second glance - that Time - just unleashed the kind of magic that would have had Kirkwall Templars all over a mage before you could say ‘Tranquil.’ 

Varric has spent the last ten years running with people whose attitude towards magic is a bit outside the accepted standard, to say the least. Even he is a bit unsettled at the display he just witnessed. The uncontrolled quality of it has images of disfigured bodies and destructive rampages to flashing behind his eyes. Lack of control leads to innocent bystanders coming down with a bad case of dead. 

Time allows Twilight to help him to his feet as everyone around them screams. Solas and Cassandra both have hands on their weapons, looking seconds away from drawing on anyone to step wrong, including each other. Lavellan stands between them, teeth in her lip and a frantic look in her eye, physically holding them apart. Half of Time’s own people seem to want an explanation for the truly terrifying display of magic that they just witnessed. The other half are defending him, no questions asked. It’s all rather nostalgic, really. Brings back all kinds of memories of the screaming fights the Kirkwall crew used to get up to.

The crack of a whip cuts through the air, leaving startled silence in its wake. Sky coils his weapon, steel in his eyes. 

“Time?”

The man looks like he’s only staying on his feet because Twilight is holding him there. 

Time chooses to respond to Solas first. “I know what I carry more intimately than you can imagine.” Solas’ face darkens further, a fearsome glower pulling his lips into a sneer. “It is the price I paid to buy the lives of the people of Termina. That kind of victory does not come for free.” He meets Lavellan stare for stare, casting a pointed look at her marked hand. “It is a power I have not touched in more than a decade.”

“Then why now?” Legend’s arms are crossed in challenge. 

“And what is it, exactly?” Four adds.

Solas and Cassandra both open their mouths. Lavellan’s hands go white knuckled on their wrists and they break off with matching grimaces. 

“Because the magic here is different.” Hyrule puts in quietly. 

Time seems to sag. Twilight staggers. Wild helps him move Time out of the slowly refilling pool, seating him on a boulder. 

“There was a mental component to that creature's attack that I did not anticipate,” Time admits.

“Like it’s crawling inside your head and convincing you that all your worst fears are true,” Warrior contributes. Right. He’d taken a solid hit from one of the things too. Several members of the elven party shudder. 

“It was a demon of despair,” Solas informs them. 

“The Fierce Deity is possessive. He did not take kindly to the intrusion. He cannot usually wake unprompted; I was caught off guard.”

His companions all process this with various states of unhappiness written large across their faces.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Legend orders through gritted teeth. Time nods. 

“No demon gives up after one attempt,” Cassandra states, unable to let that slide. “You have invited a lifetime of danger to you and everyone around you.”

“The Fierce Deity is no demon.”

“It is not,” Solas agrees. “It is something much more.” He doesn’t offer any hint about what that ‘something’ might be. 

“And the Templar encampment?” Cassandra bulls on. “That was done by a powerful mage backed by a sword. What do you know of that?”

Time and most of his companions just look confused, but Varric sees Four lose control of his expression for a moment. So the smithy _was_ hiding something back there. 

Lavellan exhales loudly. “We still have a job to do,” she reminds everyone. “You’re in control of it again?” At Time’s nod, she jerks her chin up decisively. “Then everyone patch up what you need to. We’re moving out in five.”

Varric sharpens his ears as slowly, and with many sideways glances, they begin to check each other over. He keeps to himself as he catalogs new bruises, watching and listening. 

“You said it was a mask,” Twilight says to Time, sitting down beside him heavily. Lavellan is keeping Solas and Cassandra occupied, pushing potions on them both and refusing one for herself. 

“It is,” Time agrees. “Just as the Master Sword is a weapon.”

Twilight looks at Sky for some reason before nodding. Sky is looking incredibly tired. Varric never saw him take any bad hits, but he looks as worn as Time and Hyrule. Varric isn’t the only one to notice.

“You all right?” Warrior asks him. 

Sky smiles. “I’m fine. Just the usual.”

“Sit down before you fall down, then. That goes for you too, Hyrule.”

“You need to sit this next part out, Old Man?” Legend plants himself in front of Time, hands on his hips.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Yes, it is.” Warrior slaps Time on the shoulder. “You’re done for the day, Old Timer. Stay here with Sky and Hyrule and recover. We can handle a couple of wolves.” 

“No magic restoration potions for you!” Wind chimes in. Time looks a little green at the thought. 

“Remaining here alone is not a good idea,” Solas protests at the same time as Cassandra starts in with “You cannot let-”

“I’ll stay,” Varric cuts off the impending argument easily. “No sense leaving them undefended.” Solas and Cassandra won’t give up unless _someone_ from the Inquisition remains behind. It can’t be either of them, and so far Lavellan has proven far better at keeping them on track than Varric. 

The elven party has a quick, silent conversation all in significant glances and a few hand gestures. Four’s shoulders slump. “I’ll stay too,” he sighs. 

Neither Cassandra or Solas look ready to let Time out of their sight, but with Varric staying behind they can’t argue. Lavellan shakes her head, pulling them with her down the valley. Warrior, Wild, Wind, Legend, and Twilight follow behind. 

“Keep your eyes open,” Legend hisses to Four as he goes. Four waves him off, looking cross.

Varric plants himself next to Four when they’re gone, settling in for a shared watch. “So that was exciting.” 

Four snorts.

“Any other earth shattering revelations you all are sitting on? Maybe one of you is actually Andraste reborn?”

“You think we’d tell you if we were?”

“Point.” Varric lets a moment of contemplative silence fall. “Haven’t seen Wolfie in a bit.”

“He’s around. He tends to stay further away when we’re all in a group like this.”

“Uh huh.”

\- - -

It doesn’t take long for the others to finish up with the wolves. They almost look bored as they come back up the valley, spilling their story. The wolves - and the demon controlling them - were an easy fight after all that came before. For all Legend’s dire predictions, no one has come to investigate the pillar of flame Time set off. Varric figures anyone who might have is either dead or well scared off.

They rouse the three somewhat recovered elves before everyone troops back to Dennet’s farm. 

Time spends the entire hike avoiding both Solas and Cassandra, his cohorts all more than willing to run interference for him. Varric isn’t about to intervene; this is the best entertainment he’s had since the world went to shit. Warrior is doing a masterful job of engaging Cassandra in an involved conversation on war tactics. Wind and Wild take turns peppering Solas with questions. Even the quiet one, Hyrule, gets in on it, asking Solas something highly technical about magic when it looks like the man is about to lose his patience with the other two. 

The moment they reach the farm, Lavellan drags all three of her companions, Varric included, with her to talk to Dennet. Varric slips back out of that conversation at first opportunity. Sometimes it pays to be short. He meanders back through the farm. 

Time and Warrior are in deep conversation with Dennet's wife Elaina, telling her their version of the same report Lavellan is giving to Dennet. Sky is collapsed against the base of a tree outside, fast asleep. Hyrule is in much the same state, perfectly comfortable up in the tree's lower branches. Legend is seated at the base next to Sky, picking out a mellow tune on a small harp, glaring away any and all comers. Wild and Wind have discovered a pitchfork and are play jousting with it, Wind on Wild’s shoulders and Wild playing the part of the horse. Varric cannot ever remember having that much energy. 

Varric finally finds who he’s looking for out in the stables. Twilight is brushing down a sturdy silver bay, Four seated nearby examining what looks like a broken buckle on the horse’s bridle. 

“So… you’re Wolfie, huh.”

They both stop. Twilight laughs a little. “I wondered if one of you would figure it out. I was expecting it to be Solas, with the way he glares.”

“You’re not the first shapeshifter I’ve come across, remember? The rest of your buddies. They don’t know?”

“Most of them do, now. I try to keep it quiet. Wolves aren’t very welcome where we come from.”

“It’s not a common ability here, either. I’ve just seen some shit. Seems like you boys have too.”

“You could say that,” Four returns easily. Varric nods, thinks about how to phrase his next observation. 

“Not gonna ask who but, it was one of you who took out all those Templars, wasn’t it.”

Four and Twilight exchange a look. Four meets Varric’s eyes evenly. “Yes.”

“Thought so.” Varric hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, rocking forward on his feet. “You boys gonna stick around? Lavellan likes you.” _Varric_ liked them. 

Twin head shakes. “We have our own purpose,” Twilight states. 

Not surprising. Disappointing, but not surprising. “In that case, it’s been a genuine pleasure.”

Four stands to shake his hand, offering a little smile. “Likewise.”

“The Inquisition is going to make camp by that little lake across the road. I figure I won’t see you in the morning.”

Four nods, smile going solemn. “Thank you, Varric.”

“Take care of yourself, Smithy. You too, Mr. Wolf.” So saying, Varric lets himself back out of the stables, fully prepared to help play the distraction with Solas and Cassandra for the rest of the evening. 

When the Inquisition returns to Dennet’s in the morning to continue negotiations with the Horsemaster, the nine elves are nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all, folks. Thank you again to everyone who took the time to read, comment, and so on.

**Author's Note:**

> The plot device borrowed from Sinnatious is Wild turning into a dragon, which you can find as an omake in the wonderful story [Loved By Deities](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216835/chapters/58340227).


End file.
